In further remarking upon the revelations
given in consciousness, I call attention again to THE
UNDERSTANDING as a function of the intellect. This faculty is
concerned with the physical as distinct from the metaphysical, or
with things in distinction from ideas. It combines, as has been
before said, the intuitions of sense and of the other intellectual
functions, and forms notions of things. It is concerned with the
concrete and contingent, the finite, facts, and events. I have
observed that much confusion arises from confounding the
intuitions of reason with UNDERSTANDING conceptions. For example,
in the UNDERSTANDING conception of God, the attributes of infinity
and perfection are dropped; of God as the absolute or
unconditioned, the infinite and perfect, the UNDERSTANDING has no
conception, these being attributes incognizable by this faculty.
It can have a conception of God as a concrete existence,
indefinitely great, and of all his attributes as realities, but of
no one of them can it conceive the attribute of infinity, except
in the Lockean sense of finding no limit. But this is only the
indefinite. In UNDERSTANDING conceptions, therefore, of God, I
plainly perceive in consciousness that I refer to God my
UNDERSTANDING conception of myself, only I conceive of him as
being indefinitely greater than myself. I find that with my
UNDERSTANDING I cannot but conceive of God as being an agent, and
a moral agent like myself. I conceive of him as a personality, as
having will, intellect, and sensibility. I conceive of him with my
UNDERSTANDING as an affectionate Father, as a lawgiver, judge --
in short, with my UNDERSTANDING I conceive of God in a manner that
brings him into relation to me that is approachable and endearing.
But if with my UNDERSTANDING I attempt to conceive of God's
eternity or infinity, I find a seeming contradiction between my
UNDERSTANDING and my RATIONAL conception. So of everything that is
infinite.

My UNDERSTANDING conception of time is that
of constant flux or succession of moments; my RATIONAL conception
is that of an infinite unit, or duration as a unit. This is real
time. It is absolute duration. Now my UNDERSTANDING conception of
God is a very different one from my RATIONAL one in regard to his
eternity. With my UNDERSTANDING I cannot conceive of an existence
above the conditions of time and space. Everything given by the
UNDERSTANDING is necessarily given under these conditions.
Consequently my UNDERSTANDING conception of him is not as the
self-existent and eternal Being, but simply as an agent living on
through time as we do, of whom may be predicated, here and there,
time, past, present, and future. From the very nature of the
UNDERSTANDING it can conceive of God only under these limitations.
But my RATIONAL conception of God is that, in some respects, he
differs infinitely from this my UNDERSTANDING notion or conception
of him. Then, the reason supplies what is inadequate in the
UNDERSTANDING conception.

The RATIONAL conception is, of God the
unconditioned, and of course as above conditions of time and
space. The RATIONAL conception gives him as the infinite Being;
consequently, that in respect to him there can be no here or
there. With respect to all other beings there can be, and must be,
place; but to the infinite Being, so far as his own existence is
concerned, there can be no place in the sense of here or there;
for here implies there, and the term here has no meaning unless
there is a there, and there unless there is a here. These are
terms of distinction that cannot belong to God. Of all other
beings he can say here and there; but of himself there is neither
here nor there, for this would contradict his infinity or
omnipresence.

Now I find in my consciousness that in this
respect my UNDERSTANDING and my reason differ entirely in their
conceptions of God. The same is true of time as it respects God.
Being absolute, or above the condition of time, or which is the
same thing, being self-existent, he can sustain no such relations
to time as finite beings must. So far as his infinite being is
concerned, there can be neither past, present, nor future; for
present as distinguished from past or future implies the past and
the future. But my RATIONAL conception of God is that he is above
conditions of time. Indeed, to call this in question is deny that
he is self-existent, and to say that he never can exist. But this
entirely baffles my UNDERSTANDING conception of him. My
UNDERSTANDING cannot possibly conceive of him as being in such a
sense above the conditions of time and place that it is not
strictly proper to predicate of him both time and place. Hence we
speak of him as everywhere, as here and there. This is common
language both in the Bible and in all that we say of him. We also
speak of him as sustaining relations to time such as we sustain.
Especially in this -- we speak of all time as being present to
him.

Such language is inevitable as expressing
our UNDERSTANDING conceptions of God, and these conceptions are
not delusions in an injurious sense. And yet they fall infinitely
short of expressing the RATIONAL conception that we have of God.
Our UNDERSTANDING conception of God is that he fills all things;
and the UNDERSTANDING is even overwhelmed by the magnitude of the
universe, and gets its most exalted conception of his greatness by
conceiving of him as being everywhere and as pervading the whole
universe. But the RATIONAL conception of God is that he is
infinitely above and beyond all limits and measurements,
infinitely above all ages, time, cycles, and our UNDERSTANDING
conceptions of time. Care should therefore always be taken to
discriminate between the RATIONAL conceptions of God and the
UNDERSTANDING conception of him. The RATIONAL conception gives the
idea of his being a substance possessing certain attributes; and
that of infinity and perfection, absoluteness and
incomprehensibility are attributes of his. The reason must
necessarily conceive of him as a unity; the UNDERSTANDING may
conceive of him as a three-fold personality.

Again, I must add a few remarks concerning
THE JUDGMENT as a function of the intellect. This faculty is
concerned with evidence and proof. It is the faculty largely
concerned in logical processes of thought. In consciousness I find
that it is a passive function of the intellect, in the sense that
when certain conditions are fulfilled, its decisions are
inevitable. And yet, in regard to these conditions, I find in
consciousness that the acts of my will have very much to do with
directing the decisions of my judgment. I find in consciousness
that by willing I direct attention either to or away from the
proper sources of evidence in any case to be decided; and the bias
of my will I find has often a decided influence in the view taken
by the judgment of what is or is not true. By consciousness I find
that I often pre-judge a case in consequence of the unfair
attitude of my will -- that often I am unwilling to be convinced
of certain truths or facts; or on the other hand am very desirous
of being convinced that certain things are true. In this case I
perceive in consciousness that I cannot trust my opinions or the
decisions of my judgment where my will is in a committed attitude;
and I often discover that I have been deceived by the committed
and uncandid position of my will. I find also in my consciousness
that my conscience holds me responsible in many cases for the
decisions of my judgment as well as for the actions of my life. It
forbids me to judge censoriously or unfairly of my neighbor. It
condemns me for prejudice universally; and conscience I perceive
will hold me responsible, not only for the decisions of my
judgment in all cases of doubt, but for my acts, whether in
accordance with my judgment or not.

Conscience, I perceive, will not allow me
to deceive myself in the decisions of my judgment, and then take
refuge under these delusions to justify myself. In consciousness I
perceive that conscience will justify my conduct only as I am
conscious of judging and acting in a perfectly benevolent state of
mind. In consciousness I find that I am as severely censured by
conscience for prejudice against my neighbor as I am for any
injury that I might outwardly inflict upon him. Nay, so far as my
own conscience is concerned, I perceive that to think ill of my
neighbor is often to do him the greatest injury of which I am
capable. His character is dear to himself and to God. Nothing in
the outward life can be so valuable, and no injustice to him can
be so great as in my judgment unreasonably to rob him of his
character. Christ in his teaching strongly reprobates prejudice,
and insists that all our judgments shall be formed in strictest
charity. In the looseness of men's thoughts it often appears as if
their ideas of morality were confined very much to their outward
actions and relations, and as if they deemed it a greater crime to
defraud a man in a business transaction than to judge his
character uncharitably. But by attending to the voice of
conscience as revealed in consciousness, we shall see that
prejudice against a man, that allowing ourselves to form
censorious judgments, is a far greater injustice to him than the
mere defrauding him of money; and that publishing a censorious
judgment and uttering a slander of a neighbor is one of the
greatest of earthly crimes against him. Indeed, there is almost
nothing in which we more frequently sin than in the use of this
intellectual function, the judgment; and it is amazing to see to
what extent sins of this character, though of the deepest dye, are
overlooked in our estimate of our moral condition.

But I must pass in the next place to some
additional remarks upon THE WILL, as this faculty and its
activities are revealed in consciousness. By the will is intended
that power or faculty of the mind by which I act. And here it is
requisite to say, that by power or faculty is not intended a
member, as we speak of the body as divided into parts and members;
but by faculty is intended a property of the mind, a capacity, or
that of which the mind is capable or susceptible. It has been said
that the mind is to be regarded as a unit possessing a variety of
capacities and susceptibilities. By the will is intended the
mind's innate power of choice. It is the will in which
particular[ly] personality resides. By this power we are
made agents, that is, self-active beings. By this power, in
connection with the intellect and sensibility, we are made moral
agents, or morally responsible actors. By this power we are
self-determining in regard to our own activity, and sovereigns of
our own actions. We mean by the freedom of the will precisely
this: That we direct and decide our own choices entirely above and
beyond the law of necessity. When I choose I find that I am
universally conscious that I elect, prefer one course to the
other, or one object to the other; and that in the identical
circumstances in which I choose I am able in every instance to
choose the opposite of what in fact I do choose. Herein, and
nowhere else, I perceive the liberty of my will to
reside.

Some have defined the freedom of the will
to consist in our ability to execute our volitions, or to do as we
will. But herein is no liberty. I am conscious that it is the law
of necessity by which the actions of my will and the actions of my
muscles are connected. My muscles cannot neglect or refuse to move
under the decisions of my will. If in any case they do not obey my
will, it is because this law of connection is for the time
suspended. But it is absurd to define human liberty as consisting
in the ability, power, or opportunity to execute my choices, or to
do in conformity with my willing. I cannot but execute my
volitions unless some obstacle is opposed to their execution that
overcomes the power of my will. The willing is the doing inwardly;
and this inward doing must express itself in outward doing by a
necessary law. I cannot act otherwise than as I will. Of all this
I am conscious.

I know, then, by certain knowledge that I
am an agent, a free, self-active being; and I know this with a
certainty that cannot be shaken by logic or sophistry. I find that
I cannot but assume my own liberty of will in every instance of
affirmed obligation. Indeed, I find it impossible to conceive of
an obligation to act, only as I have power thus to will and choose
to act. And I find that I cannot conceive of obligation, of praise
or blame, where but one kind of action is possible. If there is no
other way, but so or so I must act, and it is impossible for me to
act in any other direction or way, I cannot conceive myself as
morally responsible in such a case.

In considering the question I perceive that
my reason affirms that this liberty of will is essential to moral
agency; that forced action is not responsible action; and that any
action of will determined by a law of necessity cannot be moral
action. I am conscious of affirming that where liberty of will
ends and necessity begins, there moral agency ends; and that moral
agency implies the power to resist any degree of motive presented
as an inducement to act. If at any point the considerations
presented could force the will, that forced act is not the act of
a moral agent. Moral agency ceased where force
commenced.

In consciousness I also perceive that as a
moral agent my liberty is regarded even by God as sacred; he does
not, and will not invade it. He knocks at the door of my heart;
but he does not break in. He pleads, commands, and reasons; but he
does not force. He will not invade the sanctuary of my liberty,
nor allow it to be done by any creature in the universe. In this
respect I conceive myself as bearing his image. I cannot but so
regard myself. I am a free moral agent as he is; and this image in
me he respects as his own image. This image with him is sacred; he
will never invade the sanctuary which he himself has created, of
my own personal liberty. He will present considerations to induce
me to imitate him in action; but to force me to act like himself
is naturally impossible and involves a contradiction; for forced
action would not be like his action, his action being always
free.

I find myself, therefore, necessarily
conceiving of him as holding me responsible for the actions of my
will; but never controlling these actions by any law of necessity
or force. By consciousness I find that I affirm that this must be
true of all moral agents, and that this liberty of will is
necessarily implied in the very conception of a moral agent. Thus
I know myself; and this knowledge is so intuitive and irresistible
that I can no more doubt my moral agency and moral responsibility
in respect to the actions of my will than I can doubt of my own
existence.

Again, by the use of the faculty of will I
am conscious of being a cause, of causing the acts of will
directly, and then indirectly actions of my body; and through the
body of causing changes in the material universe around me. By the
actions of my will I am also conscious of exhibiting my ideas to
others, and of being instrumental in influencing the minds around
me; and by influencing their minds I influence their bodies; and
by influencing their bodies I produce many changes in the material
universe with which I and they stand connected. I am conscious in
willing, of being a proper cause. I say, in willing I cause my
acts of will directly, and whatever else I cause, I cause by an
act of my will. In willing, I act. I cause these actions of will,
and am myself a proper cause. Proper cause must be me. Acts of
will are not properly cause, for they are caused by the
responsible agent. They are only instrumental causes, as are the
hands or other faculties of body or mind. I act; in acting I am a
cause, that is, my acts are effects. In consciousness I perceive
that I am a cause, and I also perceive that reason affirms God to
be a cause, and to be a first cause, and that in the most strict
and proper sense a cause.

In consciousness I learn that the freedom
of the will does not imply power to abstain from all action or
choice in the presence of objects of choice; but in the power of
preference, choosing the one or the other in a sovereign manner. I
further learn in consciousness that I cannot choose without an
object of choice; and that objects of choice are merely conditions
upon which it is possible to choose. But that objects of choice do
not necessitate or compel choice in the direction of the object.
Without some object I cannot choose at all. But in the presence of
any object I can choose one way or the other; I can prefer the
existence or non-existence of the object in a sovereign
manner.

I perceive, then, in consciousness, that
what are generally termed motives are the conditions of action,
but never the causes of action. The object is that without which I
cannot choose at all; but in the presence of the object I may
choose it or refuse it. Again, I learn in consciousness that the
object of choice is something in which I can conceive there is
some intrinsic or relative value. I perceive that it is contrary
to my nature, for example, to choose evil either moral or natural,
that is, sin or misery for its own sake. To choose anything for
its own sake is to choose it for that which is intrinsic, and on
its own account. But I can see nothing in sin, nothing in misery
that is not intrinsically abhorrent to my own being; therefore I
find that it is not to me an object of ultimate choice -- I cannot
choose it for its own sake. By consciousness I find that I remain
indifferent to any object present to my mind in which I perceive
nothing valuable or injurious, intrinsically or relatively, to any
being in the universe. In such a case no matter what the object
might be, I am necessarily as indifferent, so far as choice is
concerned, as to a mathematical point. It is to me, and can be to
me, no object demanding or even admitting of choice. I cannot
prefer its existence or its non-existence, for I can conceive no
possible reason for this preference. The preference in such a case
would be an act of the will without an object, which is a natural
impossibility.

The freedom of the will, then, does not
imply the power to abstain from all choice in the presence of a
real object of choice; nor does it consist in the power to choose
without an object of choice; nor in the power to discriminate
between the objects of choice where the mind can perceive no
reason for discrimination. If the mind can perceive no difference
in any respect between one object and another, neither in respect
to what is intrinsic or relative in the object, the will cannot
prefer the one to the other; for this is a contradiction, it would
be a choice having no object. If two objects be presented to the
mind, one of which I am to choose, if these objects are in all
respects precisely similar in my estimation, I can choose the one
and be indifferent to the other, but I cannot prefer the one to
the other; for this again would imply a preference without an
object, or any conceivable reason for the preference.

Again, in consciousness I learn that
certain things are abhorrent to my whole nature, so far as their
intrinsic nature and character are concerned; and as such they are
not objects of choice. I can refuse them, but choose them for
their own sake I cannot. And again, I perceive that other things
commend themselves to my nature in the sense of being objects of
desire. I can desire them on their own account, that is, for what
they are in themselves; or, I can desire them on account of their
relations to other desirable things. And I perceive, that to be an
object of choice, a thing, as I have already said, must appear to
me to be of some relative, or of some intrinsic value. If it be an
object either intrinsically or relatively valuable, or the
opposite, either intrinsically or relatively evil, the will can
act, and must act, in the presence of it. If it be regarded as
intrinsically evil, the will cannot choose it for its own sake,
but necessarily rejects it. And where there is such a necessary
rejection, this rejection is not a moral act. I learn by
circumstances that what I regard as intrinsically evil, such as
sin or misery, can only be chosen as relatively an object of
desire. I can desire the infliction of pain upon another either in
accordance with my ideas of justice, or to gratify a feeling of
resentment. But the thing that I wish here particularly to insist
upon is, that the freedom of the will does not imply the ability
to choose things that are to us no objects of choice, in the sense
that they in any respect commend themselves either to the
intellect or to the sensibility; that no state of the sensibility
can desire, and no function of the intellect can affirm, that in
any respect they are a good. In consciousness I learn that my will
sustains such a relation to my intellect on the one hand, and to
my sensibility on the other, that from each of these departments
of my mind I receive the motives that are conditions of my will's
actions.

It appears to me that philosophers have
greatly erred in maintaining that the will never acts except in
obedience to desire. I am conscious that this is not true; and
that I often act in opposition to all conscious desire. It has
been common for philosophers to maintain that no presentations
merely through the intellect excite the will's activity, or supply
the conditions of its action; but that the will universally is
dependent upon the excitement in the sensibility of some appetite,
feeling or desire; and that whenever it acts it always obeys some
desire. Now to this I object, first, that in my own case I am
conscious that it is not true; that the moral law as given by my
conscience is to me a rule of action; that it supplies the
condition of the will's activity that I cannot but act in its
presence whether there is desire or no desire, or whatever the
desire may be. The law itself as subjectively revealed in my
intellect actually necessitates action one way or the other, and
my liberty consists in acting in accordance with or in opposition
to this affirmed subjective law. This I as really know as I know
my own existence. But secondly, I object to the doctrine in
question, that if the will acts in obedience to desire, its
actions are either sinful, or they have no moral character at all.
Universally, feeling, desire, emotion, and all the states of the
sensibility are blind. They are never the law or rule of action.
The will ought never to act in conformity with them except as the
law of the intelligence dictates that course of action; and in
that case the virtue consists in its obeying the dictates of the
intelligence, or the law, and not in its obeying the blind desire,
which is never law. Indeed, herein is the distinction between
saints and sinners; sinners obey their desires and saints their
convictions. In other words, sinners follow the impulses of their
sensibility, and to gratify them is their adopted law; but saints
obey conscience, or the law of God as postulated by the
conscience. I am conscious of this in my own case; and that when I
act in accordance with the convictions of my conscience, I often
at the same time act in opposition to the feelings of my
sensibility. Indeed, in precisely this consists the Christian
warfare -- in resisting the emotional and sensitive parts of our
nature and not indulging the desires, appetites, and propensities,
but in obeying the law of God as postulated and given in the
conscience.

I regard the theory that the will never
acts except in obedience to desire as eminently false and
dangerous, contrary to consciousness, and contrary to any sound
view of moral obligation or moral action. In consciousness I find
the distinction plainly marked that my conscience or reason is the
law-giving faculty, the decisions of which I am bound to obey,
consulting the desires of the sensibility no farther than this
consulting and gratifying of the sensibility is dictated and
required by the conscience.

I perceive that Bishop Butler in his
sermons affirms that virtue consists in obeying certain desires.
He says that we have constitutionally the desire of our own good
and happiness and the desire for the happiness of others. We have
private desires and public desires; that is, desires for private
good and desires for public good; that virtue consists in the
gratification of these public desires; and he regards it virtuous
thus to choose because the desire itself is virtuous. He thinks
that the nature of the desire gives character to the choice to
gratify it, or makes it virtuous to act in conformity with it. But
I do not so read the convictions of my own mind. Constitutional
desire is never virtuous or vicious. Desire as distinct from
willing, or choice, or volition, has, and can have, no moral
character. The desires for the public good are passive; and this
Bishop Butler holds, if I understand him. They can therefore in no
proper sense be virtuous or vicious desires; and to obey them is
not virtue, or to disobey them is not vice. To choose the public
good for its intrinsic value is virtue; but to choose it for its
intrinsic value as affirmed by the reason is not to choose it
because it is desired. To refuse the public good is sin, because
we intuitively affirm that it ought to be chosen for its own sake
and not to be refused. But the sin does not lie in denying the
desire, but in refusing to obey the law of God as postulated in
the conscience. It is true that the conscience could not affirm
obligation to choose the public good except upon the condition
that it is regarded as a good, and that experience of pleasure or
pain in the sensibility is the chronological antecedent and the
condition of our having the idea of the good or the
valuable.

Our desire, therefore, may be the condition
of our affirming moral obligation in the sense that they are the
condition of developing the idea of the valuable, and therefore
the idea of the obligation to choose the valuable for its own
sake. But in reading my own consciousness I cannot perceive that
the conditions of my will's actions are the excitement of desire,
and that virtue or vice consists in acting either in conformity
with or against desire apart from the law of my intelligence or
conscience. I suppose that animals act purely under the influence
of the sensibility. They have no other rule of action. We are
under moral law, moral law as given by conscience; and whatever
the states of the sensibility are, we affirm ourselves bound to
obey the rule of life revealed in the conscience.

In my own case I am sure that conscience
requires me to act simply in view of the motive as presented in
the law; that in the presence of that motive, whether I have
desires or not, I am bound to act, and must act, and I do act one
way or the other, and am held responsible accordingly. I am
conscious that it often happens that desire and feeling are in
accordance with the rule of duty. In such cases it is a comfort
and a pleasure to decide and act in accordance with the rule of
duty as given in conscience, and the performance of duty becomes a
pleasure; but it is neither the pleasure nor the pain that results
from obeying God or the law of my conscience. It is neither the
gratification nor the denial of my desires that is the rule of my
duty. This rule I receive from my intellect. My sensibility is to
be consulted in my moral activity only as its emotions, desires
and states are in accordance with the dictates of my conscience;
or in other words, only as my conscience commands me to deny or
refuse their indulgence.

A recent writer professes to believe in the
freedom of the will; and yet his definition of what constitutes
freedom of the will is so equivocal that I cannot understand why
he should regard himself as believing in the freedom of the will
in any proper sense. [Mental Philosophy: Including the
Intellect, Sensibilities, and Will, by Joseph Haven, D.D., Prof.
of Systematic Theology in the Theological Seminary, Chicago, Ill.,
and Late Prof. of Intellectual and Moral Philosophy in Amherst
College; page 515; first edition, 1857.] His definition of
freedom of the will is in substance, the power to will as we
please. But it may be asked, what does this mean? What does this
writer mean by "please?" Does he mean to use the word "please" or
"pleasure" here in the sense of a voluntary state of mind? Is it
willing or choice? If so, then the power to will as we please is
simply the power to will as we will. But have we power to will as
we do not will? To say that we have power to will as we really do
will is nothing to the purpose. Or, does he mean in this case that
we have power to will otherwise than we do will? Does he mean to
say that we will as we do will by our own power; or that our
pleasure, or some state of mind which he calls pleasure,
necessitates the act of willing or choice? If by his definition he
means simply that we have power to will as we in fact do will,
this is nothing to the purpose, unless he also adds and holds that
in the very identical case and under the identical circumstances
we have power to will the opposite of what we do really
will.

Secondly, Or, by "please" does he mean that
we have power to will as we desire? If this is what he means, I
ask, Have we power to will against desire? and against the
strongest desire? If we have not power to will any otherwise than
as we desire, and in accordance with the strongest desire, then is
not our will free. But does he mean that any degree of desire is
sufficient as a condition of our having power to will? That we
have power to will against the strongest desire and in accordance
with the weakest desire? But that desire is really an essential
condition of our power to will? If this is his meaning, I would
inquire whether the known command of God can impose obligation to
will unless it creates desire in the sensibility in accordance
with it? If desire is an essential condition of the power to will,
it must be an essential condition of obligation to will; and in no
case can we be under obligation until a desire is created in the
sensibility in the direction of the thing required. But would this
writer maintain that a plain command of God could impose no
obligation unless it created a corresponding desire in the
sensibility? Would this writer maintain that the direct
affirmation of conscience imposes no obligation until it creates
desire in the sensibility? Now if this doctrine be true, that
desire is an indispensable condition of obligation, conscience
cannot affirm obligation until after the desire really exists. If
there is in fact no ability to will till desire in the sensibility
is awakened by a necessary law -- for desire we certainly know to
be passive and not free -- it then follows that the will is not
free to act except in obedience to desires that are created by a
law of necessity. When desire is awakened by necessity, I would
ask this writer, does he mean to say that in every instance the
will can act not only as we please or desire, but contrary to our
desire or our pleasure? For this is the real question.

To be free, the will must have power in
every case of moral obligation to act one way or the other in a
sovereign manner. It must have power to act either in the presence
of conviction or the perception of obligation, whatever the desire
may be, or whether there be any desire or not; or it must be
unable so to choose. If it is unable so to choose, it is not free.
But if able so to choose simply under the perception of
obligation, and without reference to desire or against desire,
then it is free, otherwise it is not.

But again, ability to choose in a required
direction must be a condition of obligation to choose in that
direction. If the will has not power, then, to choose against
desire, however strong that desire may be, there can be no
obligation to choose against that desire; and obligation must
invariably be as the desire is. If we are unable to will against
the strongest desire, we can be under no obligation to will
against that desire.

Again, if we always of necessity act in
accordance with the strongest desire, then it follows either that
there is no obligation, because the will is not free; or that we
always do our duty, for obligation and ability must always be
co-incident. But again, does this writer mean by the word "please"
that which we affirm to be right or useful? Does he mean to say
that we have power to choose as we see or as we feel that we ought
to choose? If this is what he means, then I would ask, if we have
power at the same time and under the identical circumstances to
choose as we see and feel that we ought not to choose? If not, the
will is not free.

Again, does this writer mean that we have
power to will according to the sense of what is upon the whole
most agreeable? This is Edwards' view. He maintains that we have
power to will according to the sense of the most agreeable; or
more strictly, that we cannot help so willing. And strictly, he
maintained that this sense of the most agreeable and the choice or
willing are identical. With Edwards, this sense of the most
agreeable, which is identical with the choice itself, is
necessitated by the presence of certain motives. Now is this what
this writer means? Is he Edwardsean? This he does not profess. But
is not his definition, after all, identical in its real meaning
with that of Edwards?

But if this writer means by please or
pleasure that we have power to choose that which is most pleasing
to us, what does he mean by its being most pleasing? Does he or
does he not mean, that which upon the whole seems most agreeable
to us? If this is so, does he mean that we have power to choose
the opposite of that which seems most agreeable to us? Do we by
necessity choose that which is most agreeable? If so, this is not
freedom of the will.

But again, I wish to ask, Is this pleasing
or pleasure, according to which he says we have power to will, a
state of the sensibility, and therefore passive? Or is it a
voluntary state, and therefore an act of the will? If it is a
voluntary state, it is identical with choice, and comes to this --
that we have power to choose as we do choose. But if this is all,
this is not freedom of will. But if this being pleased or pleasure
is a state of the sensibility, then the question returns, Have we
power to will in opposition to it? Again, if we have power to will
only as we please, and by please is intended a state of the
sensibility, and this state of the sensibility being passive is
produced by a law of necessity, how is the will free? It is not.
Indeed, if I understand this writer, his view of the freedom of
the will amounts to nothing. He has by no means discussed the real
question of freedom of the will. He has by no means stated it, nor
does he by any means hold it.

Edwards professed to hold the freedom of
the will, but gave such a definition of what constitutes freedom
of the will as not at all to discuss the real question. His idea
of freedom of will is power or ability to do as we please; or, in
other words, to execute our pleasure, or to act in accordance with
our sense of the most agreeable, which sense of the most agreeable
is identical with willing or volition. Now with him pure
opportunity or ability to do as we will is liberty of will. But
this is no liberty of will, for we cannot do otherwise than as we
will. Edwards denied that we could originate in a sovereign manner
our own volitions or actions of will. With him, this sense of the
most agreeable, which is identical with volition, is necessitated
by the objective motive. With him we are only free to do, but not
free to will. That is, we are free to do, with him, when we are
able to execute our volitions; but our volitions themselves are
necessitated. But this is only freedom in the outward act, and not
in the act of the will at all. But it was the freedom of the will
that he professed to discuss, when in fact by his definition he
evaded the whole inquiry. According to him there is no real
freedom in any case, even in the outward act; for he did not
pretend that our outward acts were not necessitated by the actions
of our will. It is therefore absurd to maintain that freedom can
belong to the mere acts of the body, which acts, as plainly
revealed to us in consciousness, are necessitated by the will.
With Edwards, then, man is not an agent in any proper sense of the
term. An agent must be a self-determiner; otherwise he is a mere
instrument or machine, determined not by a power within himself
but by something presented to him as a motive of action. He denied
and even ridiculed the idea of self-determination in man or in any
other being, even in God himself. I say ridiculed, because by his
mode of reasoning he represented the idea of self-determination as
really ridiculous, and yet maintained the freedom of the ill. This
is absurd and preposterous.

Now what does this recent writer, Professor
Haven, mean by asserting that we have power to will as we please?
Perhaps I do not understand him. But if I do understand him, his
definition of freedom of the will is radically defective, and he
does not maintain the freedom of the will.

But the freedom of the will is a necessary
knowledge, assumed by us as the radical[rational?]
condition of affirming our obligation. In every instance of
affirming obligation the condition of this affirmation is the
assumption or knowledge, or if you please, the consciousness, that
we have power to will or choose as we affirm the obligation to
choose. First, I appeal to consciousness -- that we are directly
conscious of assuming in every case of affirmed obligation that we
can will in accordance with the obligation or in opposition to it
in the identical circumstances in which we affirm the obligation.
Secondly, in every instance of affirmed obligation we are
conscious that this knowledge of our ability to will in accordance
with obligation is a condition of our affirming the obligation;
and that but for the assumption of our ability we could not
conceive it possible that we should be under any such obligation.
This is certainly an ultimate fact in consciousness, and not to be
set aside by logic. No truth of consciousness, no affirmation of
the pure reason or intuition of any intuitive faculty is ever to
be invalidated by any logical process. Intuitive knowledge is the
most certain of all knowledge, and lies at the foundation of all
knowledge. Our reasonings are often fallacious because of the
errors to which the judgment is liable; our intuitions cannot
deceive us. Therefore, the freedom of the will rests upon the same
basis with the knowledge of our existence. We are just as certain
that we are under moral obligation as we are that we exist. We are
as certain that moral obligation respects acts of will as that we
exist. We are as certain that the will is free, or that we have
power to will in accordance with obligation or in opposition to
it, as we are that we are under obligation, or that we exist at
all.

But why blink, or why evade the real
question of the freedom of the will? Why call the will free, to
conceive the possibility of obligation, and yet so to define the
freedom as to leave the question a mere mockery to a moral agent.
It is undeniable that moral obligation is obligation to choose the
highest good of universal being as an end, and to put forth those
volitions that are possible to us and in our estimation useful to
secure that end. Now this obligation implies the power to put
forth these acts of will. Why then not march up at once to the
definition of freedom of will -- that it consists in the power to
choose or refuse in every case of moral obligation?

But again, what is essential to obligation?
Is obligation created by the perception of that object which we
affirm we ought to choose? For example, is obligation to
benevolence affirmed simply in view of the intrinsic value of the
good of universal being? Or must there be a desire existing for
this good as the condition of the obligation? Must both the
perception of the intrinsic value of the good exist, and also
desire in the sensibility in the same direction, as conditions of
moral obligation? If both the perception and the desire must exist
as the conditions of our power to choose the good of being, then
the obligation cannot exist simply in view of the intrinsic and
infinite value of the good. But desire must exist; and if desire
fails to exist, however clear the perception of the intrinsic
value of the good, obligation is not affirmed. Obligation does not
exist because power does not exist to will in that direction. In
this case the conscience must wait when the good is discovered,
however clearly it is perceived, until desire awakes in the
sensibility, before it can affirm the obligation to
choose.

But will anyone seriously pretend that
either God or conscience must wait before affirming obligation
till desire for the object which we ought to choose is awakened?
Who does not know the contrary? How long shall philosophers hold
that ability to choose is conditioned upon awakened desire; and
yet maintain, or seem to maintain, that obligation exists even in
opposition to desire, or whether desire exists or not?

This
file is CERTIFIED BY GOSPEL TRUTH MINISTRIES TO BE
CONFORMED TO THE ORIGINAL TEXT. For authenticity
verification, its contents can be compared to the
original file at www.GospelTruth.net
or by contacting Gospel Truth P.O. Box 6322, Orange, CA
92863. (C)2000. This file is not to be changed in any
way, nor to be sold, nor this seal to be
removed.